


Magnetism

by goodmorningvietnam666



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Chess, Double Entendre, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is me tbh, Gen, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, I Will Go Down With This Ship, INTJ awesomeness, My First Work in This Fandom, No set time period, They're both really cocky and sure of themselves, basically they play chess and talk about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningvietnam666/pseuds/goodmorningvietnam666
Summary: Even in prison, Erik can't find a way to keep Charles from finding him. He's not sure how many times they've done this, how many times he can keep pushing Charles away.Sometimes isn't sure he wants to, even if he knows he should.





	Magnetism

**Author's Note:**

> I was given a request to write about Erik and Charles, and I'm a huge Magneto nerd so I couldn't say no. It's weirdly written and I sort of hate it but I'm posting it anyway because fuck the system. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Magnetism: it pushes, pulls; creates, destroys. It is controversy, natural, inevitable, predictable and yet wild in nature. People are magnetised: push, pull each other away. Desperate for contact, to orbit one another until they come too close and grow apart. The Earth itself is surrounded in magnetic force: the laws of magnetism apply to the physical world as well as the mental, the emotional. 

Perhaps, if he’d lost his mind, he’d decide that magnetics was the answer to all, that somehow it had omnipresence, hidden mystical power. But he is a man of science, rationale, believes in no one but himself and knows fact better than he knows his own heart, treacherous bastard that it is.

For fact is safer, secure and certain, concrete. Irrefutable, without doubt, unlike magnetism, unlike emotions. Perhaps it is by some cruel sense of humour that he is gifted with a power so controversial, that he himself has become so controversial in using that power. A man of science who decided that he would fly to the sun on wings of wax, and who was burned by the purest form of pride. 

There’s a law within physics, alchemy, nature: equivalence. It demands that every action will be met with equal and opposite force. He has acted, has decided to push and so has been pushed back. That reaction, equal and opposite, comes in the form of a prison cell, and a visit from a man who still calls him friend. 

It is maddening, that for all he has done, all of his immoral actions, he cannot seem to push away Charles Xavier. Two different forms of magnetism, and he can’t change his polarity: always negative, pessimistic. Charles is the opposite, equal and reactive, positive, optimistic. Insistent that he can be saved, that there is hope for him even after all this time, that somehow, he can be pulled free of the tar pit he’s fallen into. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” It’s not a matter of wounded pride, fear, or shame: he simply wants to be left alone. To think, to piece together his thoughts so that he may begin again, plan again, come back improved. 

“Well, I didn’t necessarily come to talk. I came to play.” At this, Charles lifts a case, black and white squares printed on its sides. A chess board.

He feels the pinch in his brow when he frowns: Charles is an old friend, and sometimes, he forgets how easily he can be read. How he is as predictable as an object at rest. “Then you’re wasting your time.”

His friend only laughs, nods when a guard opens the gate. He feels a shift, a boiling of his blood, an awakening he knows is his power. When the doors open, the power dampeners turn off: has to remember that for later. The chess board unfolds, the pieces are set once the board is on the floor, and Charles sits cross-legged, watches him. Doesn’t look away, not for shame, or fear, of pride. He never looks away, isn’t afraid of evil the way he should be, and that intensity alone is more unsettling than any form of torture. 

He stays standing, at the far end of the cell, and holds that gaze, meets it with the same measure of strength. Trust. An equal and opposite reaction. But he fizzles fast, does not have the bright and glaring optimism that his friend does: sees only a glass of water, rather than one half empty or full. Calls himself a realist because his pride demands that he not fall into a habit of regarding the world using a shuttered view. 

He approaches, sits on his knees, doesn’t miss that he is the white set, that he has been given a colour better associated with light and good. Wonders if this is a technique Charles uses, if somehow this is a subtle way of telling him he’s a good person. He’s not, and won’t pretend to be. 

He moves first: decisive, Knight to F3, and Charles is almost immediate in response. Equal and opposite: Knight to c6. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t broken out of here.” Charles smirks, flicks his gaze away from the board. 

“You didn’t come here to talk.” He replies evenly, Pawn to d3. 

“My initial reason to come here was to play, but I never said I didn’t want to talk.” Knight to f6. 

Charles has both knights in play: he has more of the board, but is never keen to lose pieces. Pawn to e4, and his friend gives an immediate reply: Pawn to h6. “If I escaped, I would be caught. It’s a matter of waiting.”

“Of patience?”

“Yes.” Pawn to d4.

“That’s something you’re good at.” Pawn to e6.

Bishop to d3, and he clicks the piece into place with too much gusto. Sometimes he can be so easy to rile up, that traitorous heart of his rarely controls him, but Charles is a glaring exception. “What do you want, Charles?”

Another Pawn, to g5: an attempt to meet his attempt to rule the board. “I don’t want anything, Erik.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Pawn to h3. 

Bishop to g7. Queenside Castling. Pawn to d6. 

Charles still hasn’t said a word and he knows he’s caught his friend out. Knows by the silence that he is right. He is always right, in the end, because he takes care to account for everything, makes sure that he knows the outcome before he acts, can accurately predict a result. If something goes wrong, then he knows he can improvise. 

Pawn to c3. A queenside castling to match his own: he wonders if this is some form of mockery, moves his stationary Knight to d2. “Imitation is a cheap form of flattery.”  
“Even the greatest war leaders learnt their tricks from somewhere, Erik.” Pawn to a5, that smirk is back to replace the thin line he’d managed to create by catching Charles out in a lie. 

“You’re delaying the inevitable.” He murmurs, Rook to e1. “Tell me why you came.”

Pawn to b6. His friend only watches him. Queen to c2. Charles only speaks once he’s moved his Knight to e7. “Let me help you.”

Pawn to e5: it’s time he put on some pressure, and Charles responds as he expects, moves his Knight back to e8. “You’re afraid of losing pieces.”

His pawn moves to b4, and Charles moves his second Knight to d5: aggressive, perhaps unnecessarily so. He’s always been the emotional of them, prone to give in to his feelings, to be subjective rather than objective. He supposes that it’s what makes him so good at getting into people’s minds: empathy is the key to all humanity’s deepest secrets. 

He has none of it. Pawn to b5. “If I wanted help, I would ask for it.”

Pawn to f5. “No, you wouldn’t. Erik-”

The pawn he moves to g3 clicks finitely, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Charles watches him, sighs and moves his Bishop to b7. “You never do.”

He takes a Pawn with his own, moves it to d6. Charles flinches, moves his Rook to f6. He takes another Pawn, c7. Finally, Charles moves in with a Knight to take the spot. He feels the pinch in the corner of his mouth: a near smile. 

“I am not asking for you to save me. Don’t waste your breath: save it for the teenagers you’re so eager to train.” A Pawn for two of his opponents: an unequal exchange, but one in his favour. Pawn to a4. 

Immediate: Knight to d6. Pawn to c4. Rook to f7. Bishop to b2. Bishop to f3. 

Knight takes Bishop, f3. Charles visibly recoils for but a moment. Knight to e4

He is ruthless, in battle and in play, in all he does because he cares for one thing: efficiency. The one great love his mind is willing to have: not woman, man, or animal, but the order of a machine that does as it should, as quickly as possible. It is not about loss, but about gain: so long as the gain is greater, the loss will never matter. 

King to g2. Pawn to h5. “Erik, you are a good man, and I know for a fact that you can do good outside of this cell.”

“I’m sure I can, Charles.” Bishop takes Knight, e4. Rook to b8. “But I don’t really care.”

He doesn’t have a reason to, isn’t tied to any one thing outside of this world. Charles, maybe, but in the way that complimentary forces are pulled together by sheer physics. He does not actively seek out friendship, only has a man who continues to push when he pulls away. 

Bishop to c6: he’s moving in, now, to end the conversation: the chess is fun, he enjoys a challenge of the mind, but the prodding, the attempt to wedge underneath his carefully crafted armour, is uncomfortable. 

Pawn to h4. “Yes, you do: you care more than you let on. For someone who loves fact as much as you do, you spend a lot of time trying to avoid the glaringly obvious.”  
Pawn takes Pawn, h4. “That’s your opinion, not fact. Your perceptions are not objective, Charles.” 

Pawn to e5, he sighs, can see the strategy behind the moves he makes but not those of his friend’s. “Good to see you finally risking a few of your pawns. You’re so determined to keep them, despite their lack of value.”

“A Pawn can become a Queen, Knight, Rook or Bishop.” Charles smirks, the expression creases the corners of his eyes, “Maybe I don’t want to lose them because they’re mine.”

“Unless you move the Pawn across the entirety of the board, risking other, more valuable pieces, that ability is pointless.” He wonders if they’re still talking about chess, moves his Knight to g5 and takes another pawn. Charles moves a Rook to f8: retreat.

So, Pawn takes Pawn at e5, another Rook moves to c8 and now he has no idea what Charles is trying to do. Moves Rook to d1, smirks when Charles moves his Queen out of harm’s way, to e7. “Sometimes a risk like that is worth taking.”

“I disagree.” Rook to d6, he bullies a Bishop back to h8. “If you’re valuing a Pawn over all else, then you’ve lost the game. Check.” Rook to g7, taken with such speed by Charles he’s left to stare down the black Queen in g7.

Laughs, takes the Queen with his second Rook. “Check. Again.”

Charles huffs, steeples his fingers, “I can’t believe I didn’t see that.”

“I can.” He replies, and when he smiles he tries to make it gentle, to soothe the edges and the sharpness it usually bears. “You’re impulsive once something of value is in danger, which is why I now have your Queen.”

“But I have one of your Rooks. You seem to value them more than most pieces.” Charles declares, moves his King to g7. 

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He replies, moves Rook to d1, watches Charles’ King return to g8. Pawn to c5. Bishop to g7. “Earlier, you mentioned being scare to lose things that are yours… you know how dangerous that sort of compassion is.”

“Compassion isn’t dangerous, Erik.” Charles insists, flicks up his gaze and they meet, the board forgotten for a moment. “Caring about people doesn’t imply weakness.”

He’d known there was something hidden in their conversation, some form of subtext. He frowns, clenches his jaw. “I can. In your case, it does.”

Pawn takes Pawn, b6. Charles moves his Knight to e6, and he takes it with his own, sitting innocently in g5.

Charles curses, moves his King into the corner of the board: h8. Erik moves Knight to Rook at f8. “You care too much about people. It gets you hurt in more ways than one.”

“You don’t care, and yet you get hurt all the same.” Rook to b8. “What am I supposed to glean from this lecture?”

“Nothing: it’s not a lecture.” Queen takes Pawn, f5. Bishop to f6. But it’s too late, once he’s gotten his Queen into play he knows he’s won. “You came to recruit me, and I’m here to tell you why that’s such a bad idea.”

“Your lack of compassion is one of those reasons? Rationality is a good thing too, you know.”

“You’re losing pieces, Charles.” He moves Bishop to d5. Charles move his own to h4. Finally, Queen to h7. “Checkmate.”

His friend smiles at him, shakes his head, “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

“Why would I?” he replies, “I’m right: if you’d admit that then you’d be less disappointed when I turned you down.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you truly hate me.”

He blinks, curls one hand into a fist, “Never.”

Charles watches him, for a still moment where he’s tempted to shrink away, the intensity of that gaze too much. But it dies, and his friend nods slowly, touches one of the white pieces he’d managed to snag in the game. 

“Another?”

A chance to keep talking, to work him around to the idea of the X-Men of heroics. Dashing tales and a limelight not his. No, he is not a team player, and certainly not the idealist Charles thinks he is. His plans for the world are not so vague as world peace. He cannot fit the mould of a hero any more than Charles would a villain.   
“Maybe this time I can teach you something.” 

Yet, this back and forth, push and pull, inevitable line of questioning that he is subjected to every time is somehow something he can’t do away with. There’s no value to it: his mind is not challenged when Charles attempts to recruit him. He is not emotionally moved or tested, the conversation should have no value and therefore should be useless. 

But he wants it, and that doesn’t make sense. 

So, before he turns his friend away for good, he’ll need to puzzle out this odd form of magnetism. Then, he can close his heart, ears, eyes, and remove Charles from his life so that he may act as he sees fit. Without the crutch of someone so hatefully empathetic. 

Soon. Not now, but soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually played chess with a computer for all of the moves, and I found out how much I missed the game, I think I need someone to play with me again after all of this writing about it. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome and appreciated!


End file.
